


Terms of Annoyance

by WaywardGranger



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender, klance - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-28 16:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21139925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardGranger/pseuds/WaywardGranger
Summary: There are things that Lance does (everything), which get on Keith's nerves, and God help him before he loses his calm and just kisses the boy.





	1. Personal Space

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of pining idiots who live in denial.

Lance. 

That son of a bitch. 

Keith rolled his eyes as he watched him walk into the group meeting ten minutes late, with a drink in his hand. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he announced, taking a long, slow sip from his cup. “What did I miss?”

Shiro, who was addressing the group of paladins, paused for a second and gave Lance a stern look that Keith had seen too many times growing up. Lance simply ignored it and sauntered over to stand right beside Keith, propping an elbow on his shoulder. 

Keith tensed at the sudden, casual contact, but Lance didn’t seem to notice. He stood that way for the rest of the meeting while Keith’s heart thumped wildly in his chest. 

As the meeting concluded, the paladins began filtering out of the room, but Keith and Lance held their positions – Keith did so out of annoyance, and Lance, well, because he’s Lance. His elbow nonchalantly remained on Keith’s shoulder, and suddenly Keith found great interest in the colours of the floor tiles. 

“Lance,” he said through gritted teeth.  


“Hmm,” he replied, still not finished with his drink. 

“Can you move away?” he said, enunciating each word carefully to highlight his annoyance. 

Lance turned his head to questioningly look at Keith, who could now feel Lance’s every breath on his face. Keith felt like his face would catch on fire. Lance’s warm breath tickled his cheek and neck, sending goosebumps down his skin. 

He clenched his jaw. Tight. “Do you not understand personal space?” For some reason, Keith was struggling to breathe, now. He continued to stare intensely at the floor as he spoke to Lance. “Your face is an inch away from mine. What if I turn my head and accidentally kiss you?” 

Lance shrugged. “Then you kiss me.” 

Keith choked. “What?”

“What?” All the colour drained from Lance’s face, and he bolted out of the room within the second, leaving Keith gawking at their strange conversation. 

Someone snorted, scaring the life out of Keith. “Boy, he sure left you hanging there, didn’t he?” Pidge smirked at Keith from where they sat on the sofa. 

Keith sputtered. “How long have you been sitting there?” 

“Long enough.”


	2. Dance It Out

One night, after a particularly difficult mission, the paladins all sat slumped on the floor of the Castle of Lions. All, except Lance, who was nowhere to be found since they landed. 

There was an unusual silence in the air. Usually the paladins would chat and celebrate successful missions, but today was different. The mission had exerted everyone’s energy to the point where even talking seemed like an ordeal. Not having Lance in the room to cheer everyone up made things worse, and the exhaustion was beginning to make the paladins agitated. 

After about 20 minutes of silence, Keith got up from his comfy spot on the floor, and wandered the halls in search of Lance. 

His footsteps echoed in the hallow corridors. The castle itself seemed to be worn out, having taken many hits during the battle. The lights were dim, and the familiar hum of the ship’s engine was dulled to a low buzz. Keith popped his head into every room with no success. A few more corridors later, he picked up on a muffled beat coming from a couple of rooms down the hall. As he approached the room, the beat became distantly familiar. 

If Keith wasn’t exhausted to his core, he would’ve rolled his eyes into the back of his skull and watched as his last two braincells died off. But, sadly, all he could manage was an exasperated sigh. 

He stopped at the door, which was slightly ajar, and listened, trying to make out the tune. _Shakira._ It was fucking Shakira, of all artists. 

The happy tune of the song played softly, in stark contrast to the current mood of the castle. It felt so misplaced in the gloomy atmosphere, but then Lance came into view, and with the way he was moving to the beat, it suddenly felt weirdly right. It felt like this was something that was desperately needed right now, like if there was any more gloominess, the world would cease to exist, and Lance was the only thing keeping it alive right now. 

Keith stood there, leaning against the door frame, mesmerized, and in awe of how someone so insufferably annoying as Lance could look so enchanting dancing to a song like this. Shakira was right though: Lance’s hips _don’t_ lie. It was annoying, really, how Keith couldn’t take his eyes off of them. 

He was just about to leave, when Lance caught his eye. Keith froze. He held his breath and prayed he could go invisible. Lance didn’t break eye contact as he glided over to Keith and extended a hand. 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

Lance pulled Keith’s hand into his own. “Dancing it out,” he said, as if it was obvious. 

Keith pulled away. “I don’t dance.” He began to turn around. “Especially not to _this_.”

Lance sighed as he moved to block Keith’s exit. “God, you’re so annoying.”

Keith frowned. “Lance,” he began. 

Lance’s ears perked and a toothy grin flashed across his face. “Hey, listen,” he said, raising a finger. “The song changed!” 

Keith’s heart skipped a beat as an old rock song came on. “I know this song,” he whispered. 

Lance smirked. “I thought you only listened to emo music.”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows, mind racing back to the days he spent as a kid, listening to this song over and over again. 

_I’ve been roaming around, always looking down at all I see._

Lance extended his hand once again. “I could really _use_ a dance partner.”

Keith rolled his eyes at Lance’s lame attempt at a pun, but he considered the offer, staring at the freckled hand in front of him. 

“Dance out your problems, man. It’ll be good for you,” Lance shrugged. “Works for me.” 

Despite the exhaustion racking at his bones and muscles, Keith hesitantly placed his hand in Lance’s. 

_You know that I could use somebody._

Lance led Keith across the room, gracefully and effortlessly, smiling as he swayed to the music. Keith hadn’t the slightest clue how to dance, but with Lance’s hands holding his, he didn’t care, and just let Lance swing his arms around like they were ten year olds on a playground. 

Lance’s hands slowly found their way to Keith’s waist, and Keith’s to Lance’s neck. If he wasn’t paralyzed with fear, Keith would have bolted out of the room the moment Lance had touched him. 

To break the awkward, perhaps one-sided tension, Keith cleared his throat and asked Lance a question that had been bugging him for a couple of days. “Hey, uh, Lance?” 

“Yeah?” Lance said, breathlessly. He could feel Keith’s breath on his skin, and wondered if Keith could feel his. 

Keith could definitely feel Lance’s breath, and he tensed a little. “The other day. . . when you said, uh, if I kiss you then I kiss you…” he let out a nervous laugh. “What did you mean?” 

Sirens went off in Lance’s mind, screaming at him to abort mission. He pulled one hand away from Keith’s waist to rub his neck. Keith’s waist?

Keith’s waist. 

His hands were on Keith’s waist. 

Shit. 

Lance feigned a yawn and pulled his other hand away to fake stretch. “It was a joke, mullet. I wouldn’t kiss you if my life depended on it.”

Keith straightened his back. “Oh,” he said. “Okay. Good. Me either.” He gave Lance a look that he hoped passed as annoyance. 

He said a quick “bye,” and walked out. As he walked back to his own room, he felt a bit lighter. Maybe Lance’s stupid “dance it out” worked, or maybe it was the fact that he was relieved Lance was only joking about kissing him. Whatever it was, his exhaustion had begun to wear off, and after the crazy mission they’d just had, that was a huge feat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, I realize I say their names a LOT rip


	3. Wake Up

_Tick. Tock. _

_Tick. _

_Tock. _

Keith sat glaring at the clock on the wall opposite him, the monotonous ticking growing louder by the second. His elbows rested on his knees, hands balled into fists, and his leg bounced to the beat of the clock. 

One hour. 

He’d been waiting for Lance for one hour, and that asshole showed no sign of coming. 

Finally, Keith had enough with Lance’s tardiness, so he marched over to his room and banged on the door. 

“Lance!” he screamed. “Wake the fuck up!”

He listened for any signs of life, but heard nothing. He rolled his eyes and pushed open the door. Cold air hit his skin and he reeled back, twisting his face in annoyance. He exhaled sharply and forced himself to walk into the freezing cold room. 

It was dark and quiet, except for the soft hum of a fan. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, tugging on a long-forgotten memory from Keith’s childhood that he couldn’t quite place. 

He took a couple more steps in and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Turning his attention to the corner of the room, Keith saw the faint outline of Lance’s bed, piled with dozens of pillows, and Lance in the midst of it. 

Only his face was visible underneath the mountains of pillows and the blanket pulled up to his chin. Keith tapped Lance’s forehead. 

“Lance.” 

Nothing. 

Keith’s patience was running thin. He grabbed a pillow and smacked Lance’s face. 

“Wake up!”

Lance mumbled something under his breath and flipped over onto his stomach, but he didn’t wake up. 

Keith grumbled and threw half the pillows off the bed in an attempt to reach Lance. His hands found Lance’s feet and he yanked him down the bed. 

Lance’s hands tried to grab a pillow to tether himself to the bed, but Keith pulled hard, dragging him and the rest of the pillows off the bed until Lance hit the floor with a _thump_.

He still didn’t wake up. 

Keith’s mouth hung open. _Is he serious?_

He placed his hands on his hips and thought for a moment, before pulling the blanket off of Lance, which was now wrapped around him like a burrito.  
Lance was rolled around, his head hit the floor a couple of times, but he made no move to wake up. Once the blanket was off of him, Keith threw it to the side. He huffed, and looked back over at Lance, and his breath caught in his throat. 

Lance was shirtless. 

Keith stared up at the ceiling, sending the universe a silent prayer for strength. He slowly glanced back down, eyes grazing down Lance’s back, the band of his boxers, and his sweatpants. 

He grabbed a pillow from the floor and threw it at Lance, covering his bare back. “Wake up right now or I’ll drag you to the training room by your feet,” he grumbled. 

Lance spoke into a pillow. “I told you, Keith, 8:00 is an unholy hour to wake up at.” 

“It’s nine, now, idiot.”

Lance waved a hand. “Anything before 1:00 is too early.”

Keith grabbed a pillow and repeatedly hit Lance with it. 

Lance suddenly turned around, his legs swooping under Keith’s, causing him to lose his balance and fall right on top of Lance, hands landing on either side of his head. 

Lance barely registered what had happened as he spoke, eyes still closed. “Why are you so insistent on training with me, Mullet? There are five other people in this castle, you know?”

“You and I have a mission tomorrow,” Keith said, breathless. 

Lance opened his eyes at the tickle of someone’s breath on his nose. There was dead silence in the room as he took in his surroundings. 

He looked Keith up and down, then he smirked. “Damn, Keith, at least wait until the third date. I’m a gentleman.” 

Keith’s face almost caught on fire. “Wha- what do you-” he stuttered. 

“Get off of me,” Lance stated, rubbing his eyes. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Keith mumbled, forcing his limbs to unfreeze and move off of Lance’s _surprisingly_ toned body. 

He stood up and rubbed his neck. Why did he always lose his ability to breathe around Lance? Maybe it’s because he stinks. Yeah, that must be it. His stupid stinky face masks and stinky lotion and stinky lavender whatever it was that consumed his room. 

Lance extended a hand. “Help me up.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, but slowly placed his hand in Lance’s stinky one and pulled him up. 

He may have pulled a little too hard, because Lance was face to face with him, and Keith stood frozen, in a daze, staring into his stinky blue eyes. 

“What?” Lance questioned, running his hands through his beautiful bedhead. _‘No, Keith. His stinky bedhead.’_ His hair probably smelled like shit. 

Keith shook his head. “Nothing, just meet me in the training room in ten minutes or I’ll kick your ass.” 

With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him. He walked past a couple more rooms and then stopped, leaning his back against a wall, breathless. 

He ran his hands down his face, breathing deeply. 

“Shit,” he whispered to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gay realization*


	4. The Truth

Shouting. There was a lot of shouting. And arguing. 

Over what?

Lance. 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Why do I have to do this?” he groaned. 

“Because you’re done your part of the mission, Keith.” Shiro’s voice rang through the comms. 

“I’m sending you his coordinates,” Pidge screamed over the heavy fire Green was taking. 

“Fine,” Keith huffed, turning his lion around, away from the action, and heading towards Lance. 

He pulled up into the middle of a forest. “I got visual on Blue,” he said, circling around the lion. To his dismay, the mouth of the lion was open. 

“Great,” he mumbled, as he landed Red. 

He exited Red and cautiously walked over to the blue lion, bayard at the ready. “Lance?” he called. 

No answer. 

He entered the lion and lowered his bayard at the sight. “Guys, I found him,” he said into the comms. 

There Lance laid, on the floor of his lion, giggling. 

“Care to explain how this happened?” Keith asked, flatly, walking toward Lance. 

Lance just stared at Keith, wide-eyed and giggly. 

Keith took off his helmet and knelt down beside him. He patted Lance’s cheek. “You okay, buddy?” 

Lance grabbed Keith’s face. “Sqwoosh,” he giggled, squeezing his cheeks. “You’re so squishy.”

Keith crinkled his nose and pulled away. “Okay, you’re baked.” He stood up. “Let’s get you home.” He extended a hand, which Lance took after some difficulty finding it. 

He placed Lance’s arm around his shoulder and grabbed his waist with the other. He turned his face away from Lance to hide the unwilling blush creeping up his cheeks. 

He walked Lance down to Red and placed him on the floor beside his seat. 

The ride back to the castle of lions was smooth, besides Lance’s terribly loud drunken singing. Keith rolled his eyes. “You’re even more annoying when you’re drunk. Why does that not surprise me?” 

Getting Lance to his room was a challenge Keith prayed he’d never have to undertake, ever again. Whatever happened to him on the mission had him drunk off his ass. He could barely walk, slurred every sentence he spoke, and made weird faces at Keith, who literally had to drag Lance to his room, where he threw him on his bed with a huff. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lance flailed his arms in the air. 

Keith gave him a pointed look. 

“Come here,” he whispered. 

Keith took a couple hesitant steps towards him, crossing his arms. 

Lance reached forward and pulled Keith closer by his neck. 

“I have a secret,” he whispered, giggling into Keith’s ear. 

Keith immediately knew where this was going. And he also knew it wouldn’t end well. “I don’t care, Lance,” he said, pulling away from his grip. 

“It’s about Keith.” 

Keith froze. 

There was dead silence in the room until Lance’s deep sigh broke through it. 

Keith’s eyes followed Lance’s arms as they made dramatic actions to fit what he was saying. 

“I told Keef-” Lance furrowed his eyebrows, concentrating hard on what he was saying. “I told _Keith_ I wanted to kiss him.”

Keith’s face went red hot. 

“Then, I told em I was jokin.” Lance’s legs, hanging off the edge of the bed were swinging like he was five years old. 

Keith swallowed hard, wanting to run out of the room, but his feet were stuck, frozen to the ground. 

Lance’s hand found Keith’s and pulled him down, so he was kneeling beside the bed. His head rolled groggily to face Keith. 

“But I meant it,” he said, voice suddenly steady. “I wanna kiss that boy till God himself pries me away from him.” 

“Lance,” Keith breathed. 

“Shhh,” he said, placing a finger on Keith’s lips. “Don’t tell Keith, though.” 

“Lance, stop talking,” Keith said, voice hardly a whisper. 

He stared at Keith, his blue eyes burrowing holes into Keith’s heart.

“Keith!” Allura appeared at the door. “I just received stats from Blue. It seems Lance was exposed to a gas on the planet which has the same properties as alcohol.” 

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, makes sense. He’s been saying some pretty weird stuff.” He glanced at Lance, who was already sound asleep. 

Keith didn’t really understand much of what happened that day, but what he did know was that things were never the same between him and Lance again.


	5. Little Things

It was annoying. 

It was so goddamn annoying. 

And there was nothing Keith could do about it. 

There was nothing he could do about how, after what Lance had said, everything changed. How he couldn’t stop thinking about his unwitting confession. How he couldn’t believe that someone actually wanted to be close to him. How he started noticing little things about Lance that made his heart do all sorts of weird crap. 

Like the slight tilt of his head when he was focused on something. 

Like the gentle smile on his face when he listened to Pidge ramble on about some tech stuff. 

Like the arch of his back when he reached across the table at dinner. 

Like the way his hair ruffled every time he took off his helmet after a mission. 

Like the way he licked his lips when he was nervous. 

Like the way he existed. 

Everything about him. Everything changed. From his head to his toes. From his heart to his soul. 

And it was driving Keith mad. 

The worst part was that Lance had no idea. He had no idea of what he said to Keith that night. No idea that it changed everything that happened between them. No idea that Keith felt the same. 

But as crazy as it may seem, it was all about to change, again. For better, _and_ for worse.


	6. Right

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. 

But it did. 

And, to be perfectly honest, it was weirdly right. 

Not right in any normal sense of the word, but right like the way a rainy day feels right when you’re having a bad day, or the way leaves die and fall off in autumn, despite the newly secured colours. 

Of course, it didn’t feel right at first. 

When Lance hit the ground with a sickening crunch, it didn’t feel right. 

When Keith screamed at him through the comms, but Lance didn’t answer, it didn’t feel right. 

When he watched in horror as Galra sentries crowded around his limp body, it didn’t feel right. 

When Keith tripped over his feet while slicing his way through enemies to reach Lance, it didn’t feel right. 

But, when he cradled Lance’s head in his arms, it started to feel right. 

When Lance stirred, and his hand reached up to cup Keith’s cheek, it felt right. 

When Keith’s name slipped from his lips in a desperate attempt at disclosure, it felt right. 

And when Lance closed the space between them, God, it felt _right_. 

Keith’s breath caught in his throat, and he was dizzy by the time they broke apart. “I thought you said you wouldn’t kiss me if your life depended on it?” he teased, breathless. 

“Shut up,” Lance said, pulling him in for another, and another, and another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks y'all for reading. I hope u guys enjoyed it :)
> 
> This fic is also available on my instagram @waywardgranger


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